


History Keeps Pulling Me Down

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Can you heal me, baby? [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Laura Barton, Covert Missions, F/M, Gen, M/M, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Psychological and physical torture, Red Room, graphic descriptions of rape aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: Natasha arrives at the Barton farm unannounced traumatized and tortured.  Clint and Laura work to unravel the mystery and keep their found family safe with the help of the other Avengers.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov, James Bucky Barnes / Steve Rogers
Series: Can you heal me, baby? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742947
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	1. And I'm Losing Blood, I'm Gonna Leave My Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Please read carefully if you may be triggered with anything related to sexual abuse, psychological torture, and rape. This chapter is fairly non-graphic, but flashbacks will be coming in the next chapter. 
> 
> Title and chapter title are borrowed from Florence & The Machine. "Leave my Body" is the song.

Laura rocked on the porch swing. The rhythmic creaking of the metal chains keeping her from dozing as the movement settled her fussy toddler. Lila snuffled against her shoulder in sleep. Teething was a nightmare.

“No. Don’t break it.” A frustrated whine answered the little girl’s directive and the crayon in question was snatched from the hand of the small boy. 

Laura’s eyes opened and she shifted her weight carefully to peer down at the siblings. They were only a couple of weeks into their time with the family and the transition had been difficult. Add a toddler to the mix, and their lives had been anything but predictable. 

“Jemma, is everything okay?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry ma’am.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears and she yanked her brother’s flapping hands down to his sides. “Fitz is sorry too. Very sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry love, really. We have plenty of crayons. I promise. It’s okay to break them. Do you think maybe Fitz was trying to get rid of the wrapper to color better?” 

The girl frowned. “Maybe.” 

“I think so, he’s very smart. “Laura tugged the blanket over Lila’s head, shielding her from the breeze. “Like his sister.” 

Jemma’s face flushed and she shrugged. She pushed the bin of assorted crayons and markers towards her brother and turned her attention back to her own paper. 

***

“Easy.” Clint extended his arm over the pen. The horse paused their frantic stamping and bucking to sniff the air around his limb before turning away. 

Skye watched her father quizzically, hands flying with questions. Clint leapt from the fence and motioned for her to join him in the dirt. 

“What’s her name?” Clint asked his daughter. 

She moved her hands, questioning him. “I can name her?”

“Yeah, of course. That was the deal.” He answered, grinning at her. He remained hopeful that their newest equine addition would be therapeutic for Skye. 

“Are you going to ride her?” She asked, watching the nervous horse stamp the ground. 

“If she wants me to.” Clint answered, handing Skye a braid of clover stems. 

“You can’t ask her. How do you know what she wants?” Skye signed while gesturing to the horse. She had calmed slightly, standing as far away from them as possible, flicking bugs away from her tail and ears. 

Clint smiled at his daughter thoughtfully. “See how she’s scared? She’s too scared to eat the hay you put in there and doesn’t want to be anywhere near us.” 

“Yeah. She’s like Fitz and Jemma.” Skye spelled their names clumsily, she and her Dad had yet to give the siblings sign names. 

“Exactly. We need to give her time to adjust.” 

“Everything is new, she must be scared. Maybe she’s lonely.” 

“Maybe.” 

The ground vibrated slightly and Clint glanced at the pen. The newest member of Barton family stood stock still on the far side of the fenced area, muscles rippling in fear. 

Skye tapped Clint’s shoulder. “Dad. Who is that?” She pointed to a figure staggering towards the barn. 

Clint was on his feet before his brain grasped the idea of a threat. “Get behind me. Now.” He signed to his daughter without ever losing sight of the stranger. He deftly extracted a knife from his hiking boot and hid it in his palm as he approached. 

The figure favored her right arm, clutching it to her side. They dragged their left foot as they stepped. 

Clint let the knife fall into his hand, the weight of the weapon oddly comforting. The stranger finally lifted their head as they tripped, falling to their hands and knees. 

A flash of green-grey eyes caught his attention. 

“Nat?” He blinked. “God, Natasha. What the hell?” 

She flinched violently away from his touch. He sheathed the blade and rocked back on his heels. Natasha rolled onto her back, fumbling for one of many guns he assumed she had hidden on her person. 

A raw voice pulled him from his head. Skye vocalized and reached for her Auntie Nat. The only adult in addition to her parents that she trusted. 

“No!” Clint yelled, his arm catching his eldest daughter in the abdomen. 

Skye scrambled away from her father, betrayal and fear dominating her features. Guilt choked his throat, but he forced his hands to sign. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. Go tell Mom to get everyone inside and call Aunt Kate.” 

His daughter ran towards their home, dirt clouding her as she disappeared from view. 

To his surprise, Natasha reached towards his daughter. “Yelena. No. My fault.” 

Yelena. The name triggered a rather unpleasant batch of memories from his days at S.H.I.E.L.D. with Natasha. 

“Please. My failure, my fault sir. Yelena.” She shivered, for reasons Clint knew had nothing to do with dropping temperature. 

Barton withdrew his phone and dialed a familiar number. “Barnes. It’s Clint. Grab Steve and take one of Tony’s planes. Get here now.”

***

Closing the door to the play room, Kate adjusted the fabric wrap holding Lila to her chest. “Go, I’ve got this.” She bounced gently, soothing the cranky girl. 

Laura kissed Lila’s sweaty head and slung her Avenger-approved med kit over her shoulder. “Thank you, Jemma and Fitz should be fine playing in there. She’ll need some more Tylenol in an hour if I’m not back.” She bit her lip, her thoughts tumbling over each other. 

Skye watched her parent’s friend talk to her Mom from couch. She waved to get her mother’s attention. “Where’s Dad? Is Auntie Nat okay?” She bit at a patch of skin on her thumb, looking a lot like Natasha from her early days after Clint offered her a way out of the KGB. 

“I’m gonna see what I can do. We’ll be back soon.” Laura signed, choosing her words carefully. “Can you help Aunt Kate pick dinner? We’ll do takeout.” 

“Does Aunt Nat like pizza?” She signed back, pulling up a local pizzeria menu on the tablet with her free hand. 

“I bet she will.” Laura offered her eldest child a tight smile before turning to open the front door. 

***

Blood. Laura’s first impression of her friend was that she was covered in the coppery sticky fluid. Her hair and clothes stiff and reeking of sweat and fear. She passed a pair of gloves to her husband, a loved one was no excuse to skip Personal Protective Equipment (PPE). 

Laura deftly pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Has she said anything?” 

“Not since I sent Skye to get you.” “Clint shook his head, rolling up his sleeves. “Is Kate okay with everyone?” 

“Yeah. They’re in the playroom. Skye’s picking dinner.” Laura watched her friend’s chest rapidly rise and fall in shallow breaths. “Should we get her inside?” 

“I’m not sure if she’ll fight it.”

“Well, I’m honored you waited for me.” 

“I’m nothing if not generous babe.” Clint attempted a smile, but it failed in convincing his wife. 

“Nat? It’s Laura.” She let her fingers brush along the arm of Natasha’s suit. “You’re on the farm. You’re safe.” 

She blinked at Laura, a flicker of recognition flashing across her features. 

“It’s pretty cold out here, should we head to the house?” She continued casually, scanning Natasha for injuries. 

“Yeah, we can get you cleaned up. The kids missed their Auntie Nat.” Clint added, his hand on her back as she struggled to stand. 

She fisted Barton’s shirt and pulled herself upright. “No kids. Innocent. ‘M a weapon.” She mumbled, her words heavily accented and slurred. 

Laura shared a look with her husband, concern rolling off of her in waves. Her symptoms indicated a severe concussion, and that was just the result of a cursory assessment. God only knows injuries were concealed under her suit. 

“Okay honey. That’s fine. Just us, just me and Clint.” 

“Barton.” Her mouth fumbled around the word. “Laura.” 

“Yeah, you’re passing the cognitive tests. Who’s the president?” 

“Don’t like ‘em.” She answered. 

“Atta girl.” Clint praised. “Can I carry you?” 

“Not safe.” 

“He’s stronger than he looks Nat.” Laura hitched the med bag on her shoulder and eased Natasha lower half into his arms. 

“No.” The word sliced through the tension. “Not safe.” She twisted in his grasp, wincing as the bones in her arm grated against each other. “Leave me.” 

“What?” 

“Yelena.” She struggled against Clint’s protective arms. “You’re not safe. Yelena said.” A trickle of blood tinged spit dribbled out of her mouth. “Clint, go please.” 

“I don’t understand.” Laura hurried to catch up with Clint. He ran up the steps, the front door smacking against the frame of the house after he hooked it open with his foot. 

Barton ignored his wife and carried Natasha into their master bathroom. “Take care of her…just stay here. Don’t move. I’ll tell Kate to keep the kids in the playroom.” 

Gently Clint propped her against the bathtub and eased the shoe off her uninjured foot. His phone rang, the sharp tones driving Natasha to cover her ears and whimper. Laura wrapped her hands around Natasha’s, murmuring shushing sounds. “Easy Nat, it’s okay.” 

“Stay here.” Clint repeated. “Bucky and Steve just landed.” 

“Why?” Laura worked to release Nat’s hands from her ears. “Where are you going?”

“To get answers.” Clint pocketed the phone with unnecessary force. “Sam tagged along, I’ll get him to stay in the house with Kate.” The sentiment of extra security was left unsaid, but Laura had been married to a spy for long enough to catch the subtext of his words. 

She nodded and waved him off. “Be safe. Make sure the kids are okay, Fitz and Jemma are so new to all of this- “ 

He interrupted his wife with a rib squeezing embrace. “I will. I owe you a weekend of solitude Laur.” 

“I’d settle for one night off diaper duty and pancakes.” Laura lined the small trash can with a new bag and popped open a container of baby wipes. 

“You got it babe.” He winked and eased the door closed behind him.


	2. Said I'm Gonna Leave My Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura works to clean Natasha and assess her injuries. Clint confronts Rogers and Barnes and they speculate about what their friend might have been attempting to do. Claire and Jones arrive at the Barton farm, ready to provide more in-depth medical care and support to Natasha. Bucky delves more into the jumbled memories that HYDRA left him with to try and understand what Natasha and Yelena have to do with assassinations in recent years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for the following: 
> 
> *interview questions regarding rape  
> *graphic descriptions of aspects of rape / sexual assault

***

“Almost done.” Laura draped a bath towel over her friend’s shoulders. “Can you lean towards me? There you go.” 

She peeled the stained piece of clothing from her hips, eyeing all the bruises and lacerations making themselves known. Laura gasped and Natasha curled her legs to her torso as best she could manage with an obvious ankle fracture. 

“Nat.” Her voice shaking, she pulled another towel off the rack. “What happened?” 

Her body shook along with her head, the towel slipped from her legs and the bruises shaped like fingers stamped the inside of both her thighs. “No. It’s fine.” She shrugged, succeeding only in losing the towel that had loosely hung on her shoulders. 

“This isn’t fine Nat.” Her palms slammed against the tile floor. Frustration laced her voice. “Should I call Claire? File a report?” As an ER nurse, Laura knew the typical protocol for reporting sexual assaults. She also knew that Natasha would never enter a public hospital under her own power. Too many variables and security concerns.

Natasha consented to Laura’s arms holding the towels in place. Oddly enough, it quelled the worst of the fear, if only for a moment. 

“Dead.” She croaked. “They’re dead. Doesn’t matter.” 

The puzzle pieces fit together perfectly. The clothes matted with what seemed like buckets of blood. The fabric stiff with other bodily fluids. ‘They’, how many men had tortured and raped her? Laura involuntarily shuddered. And squeezed Natasha's shoulder gently. 

“Nat, I still want to call Claire.” 

She started to shake her head. 

“Hear me out. I’m on Family leave to help Jemma and Fitz adjust, I can’t get the supplies I need. You need bloodwork, maybe antibiotics. She can help, it’ll be safe.” Laura touched her hair, thoroughly matted with a gnarly combination of substances. “Do you want to get in the bath and then decide?” 

Natasha nodded. She accepted Laura’s support and sliding into the antique tub, the hot water sloshing just to the lip of the porcelain edge. She hissed, submerging her body up to her neck. 

The third cycle of draining and filling the tub revealed a relatively clean Natasha. “Alright love, would you like some of my clothes or Clint’s?” She gently squeezed the excess water from sections of her friend’s hair. 

Natasha nodded absently, her opinion on the matter unclear. Her eyes closed and she pulled the towel tighter around her body. 

Laura handed her a wide-toothed comb, meant to detangle kids’ hair with minimal tantrums. “I’ll be right back.” She left the door ajar. 

Kneeling at the chest of drawers she shared with her husband, Laura sobbed. Pressing her hands to her mouth she stifled her cries. Natasha had recovered herself, she had clawed and fought for every inch of progress she’d made since she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Had all that progress been destroyed? 

She dragged the back of her hand over her eyes and sniffled. Clutching a pair of fuzzy socks, yoga pants, cotton undergarments and one of Clint’s sweatshirts, she dashed back to the bathroom. 

***

Clint stomped down the steps, skipping the last one entirely in favor of lunging at Steve. “Where the hell was she?” 

Bucky’s prosthetic gripped Clint’s shoulder. A warning. “Barton.” 

He shook off the metal fingers and stepped back. “Fine, look I need answers.” 

“Where is Nat?” 

“Is she alright?” 

“No! No, she’s not okay. Where was she? What was the mission?” 

Steve looked at him quizzically. “She told me Tony sent her to Munich. Check out a lead on a HYDRA splinter cell.” 

Clint began pacing, his hands signing as he muttered. “No, no way. She told me weeks ago that you were sending her on a mission, deep cover. She said she didn’t want Laura and the kids to worry if she didn’t reach out for a while.” 

Steve paled and pulled at his beard. “Where was she all this time?” 

Bucky stepped between the men. “What does Nat have to say? Where is she?” 

“Shit.” Clint gestured to the house. “This is gonna take a lot of pizza to explain.” 

***

“Shh love.” Laura carded a hand through Natasha’s damp hair, her head heavy in her lap. 

“I’m waiting on Jones. Once she gets her ass down here, we’ll hit the road.” A familiar voice crackled over the phone.

“Thanks Claire.” Her breath caught on a sob she forced down. 

“How is she?” A siren could be heard from Claire's end of the call. 

Laura laughed, unsure as to how to answer the nurse. 

“Just let her rest, I’m sure you did first aid. Barton is damn lucky to have made a life with a nurse of your caliber.” 

“I’ll admit, I’m out of my element here Temple.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry I raided the supplies I hoard for my enhanced clients. Does she need any stitches?” 

“Not that I can tell, I closed a lac on her forehead with a couple butterfly bandages. It’s what I can’t fix with band-aids that worries me.” 

Shuffling sounds notified her of Jones’ arrival. The passenger door slammed shut and the engine turned over. 

“Hang in there Laur, we’ll be there soon.” 

Jessica let loose a string of profanities that somehow ended in a message for Nat. 

Laura ended the call and continued to comb Natasha’s hair. “Did you hear that Nat? Jones is bringing you something. From what I hear, that’s a rare thing.” 

Natasha showed no signs of hearing Laura. She did not react as Laura began to braid her hair. Her eyes continued to stare blankly at the door. Out of habit, Laura started to speak. She told Natasha every story that she could think of. She hoped that something would distract her friend, bring her into the present moment, so she kept talking until her voice grew hoarse. 

***

“Thanks Tony.” Steve ended the call and sighed. 

Clint chewed on the end of the pen and crossed off another safe-house on the list. “We burned so many of these places after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. This will take forever.” 

Bucky wiped pizza grease from his hands. “What did she say when you found her?” He asked again. 

“She said Yelena.” Clint watched Bucky for signs of recognition. 

He froze for a moment because shoving himself away from the table. The back of his chair hit the wall. 

“Buck?” Steve followed him, Clint at his heels. 

Bucky leaned over the railing, retching. The aforementioned pizza decorating the azaleas. 

“You know her.” Clint confirmed, handing Barnes a napkin. “What do you remember?”

The man snorted and crumpled the napkin. “Remember is a generous term.” 

Steve shot a warning glance at Barton, an arm protectively around Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Don’t.” Clint held a hand up to Rogers. “The two women I care most about in this world are upstairs in my bathroom dealing with an impossible situation. If we are in any danger, I need to know.” 

Barnes swallowed and nodded. “I trained her. She and Natalia were in the same year. I don’t remember much, and what I do, it doesn’t make sense.” 

Barton nodded “It’s a start.” He turned on his heel and re-entered the house. 

***

“Maybe there was some truth to what she said about Munich?” Sam mused, swaying as Lila hungrily sucked down a bottle. The Tylenol had made her miss dinner, which meant she was little night owl. 

Bucky grunted from his current position hunched over the kid’s tablet. “How do I keep finding this stupid video?” 

Clint surrendered a yawn. “Need more coffee. Anyone want a cup?” 

“Your cup is like eight times a normal serving.” Sam cooed, setting the empty bottle on the counter. 

“More for me.” Clint cheered sarcastically, opening a bag of grounds. 

“Coffee?” Kate asked sleepily from her position on the couch. Fitz clung to her torso, his little body snoring heavily. “Cream no sugar, please and thank you.” She flashed the Avengers a thumbs-up. 

Steve hummed and shuffled through papers. “Wilson may be onto something. Rumors flew last year when someone matching Yelena’s description executed a couple of old military officials.” 

Bucky lifted his head, suddenly attentive. “How old?” 

“Old enough to have fought in the same war we did.” 

Barton extracted two mugs from the drying rack. “Hang on, you’re saying Yelena may be on our side?” 

“Sides don’t matter.” Bucky stood and pressed his hands on the table. “Not to us, it’s personal. Revenge.” 

“Explain.” Sam lifted the infant over his shoulder, trying to extract a burp. 

Barnes pulled his hair into a loose bun. “Find out who she killed and I’m sure those names will lead back to the Red Room. That’s the only reason Natalia would lie to all of us. She’s trying to protect us.” 

Steve studied his partner, unsure of what to say. He settled for holding his hand. 

“Self-sacrifice is certainly her MO.” Clint added, guzzling the fresh coffee. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if some of our handlers-“Barnes shuddered involuntarily. “If the instructors have survived. The only reason Yelena and Natalia would have sought them out, is if they are trying to re-start the Red Room.” 

“Fuck a duck.” Barton added. He poured the remnants of the carafe straight into his mouth. 

***

The car lurched forward after Claire cut the engine. “Nice place.” She said conversationally. 

“Yeah. Barton’s done alright for himself. Smells like shit though.” 

“That’s manure.” Claire paused. “Are you gonna be okay Jess?” 

Jones rolled her eyes and fiddled with her seatbelt. 

They sat in silence for a moment. Claire cleared her throat, seemingly struggling with whether or not to speak. 

“Spit it out Temple.” Jess sighed.

“You know, I worry about you.” 

Jess snorted and reached for the handle of the door. 

“Hey.” Claire reached across Jess. A huge mistake in hindsight. Jessica snarled and somehow wound up kicking the door open. 

“Fuck.” She exhaled. The fall wind now blowing throughout the car aided in shocking her back to reality. 

“Sorry Jones.” 

She shrugged. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Romanov needs you. I don’t know why the hell I’m here.” 

“You do too know why.” 

“Smartass.” Jess stared at the ceiling. “You don’t have to be so smug about it.” 

“I do.” She argued lightly. “You and Murdock are so damn stubborn, I have to bully you guys into everything.” 

Jess smirked and squeezed Claire’s shoulder. “I guess I’m lucky to have you haul my ass out to the middle of nowhere. At least I know I won’t wind up falling into a dumpster with you.” 

She smiled and pocketed the keys. “Grab the bags outta the trunk for me?” 

“Are you taking advantage of my super strength?”

“Unless you want to see me lose a fight with my Luke’s Buick again.” 

“As fun as that sounds, we should get inside.” Jess pounded a fist against the trunk until it creaked open. 

“Thanks!” Claire offered her a high-five. 

Jess balanced the military grade duffel bag strap over her index finger and quirked an eyebrow. 

“Showoff.” Claire teased, pulling herself up the steps of the porch. 

***

The bathroom door creaked open. “Claire and Jess are in the kitchen.” 

Laura squinted at her phone. “I missed her call saying that they arrived. Sorry.” She continued rubbing circles on Natasha’s back. “She’s been nauseous.” 

Clint squatted next to his wife and the Nat-shaped lump of familiar clothing. Her eyes remained open, staring at a point somewhere in the past. 

“Can you hang here while I go fill them in?” Laura asked. 

“Yeah.” He gathered the younger woman in his lap, concerned that the movement did not elicit any response. He would have been happy if she lashed out, using a sparring move to subdue him. This shell of a person terrified him. She did not make one move to protect herself and did not appear to be aware of her body. 

“Nat, I’ll be right back okay? Remember when we called Claire. She and Jess are downstairs. I’m gonna go talk to them.” 

Natasha blinked sluggishly, her hands tucked under her chin. 

Laura pressed a kiss to her forehead, Natasha flinched at the contact, but her eyes briefly found her friend’s face. 

Laura snaked her arms around her husband’s neck, burying her head against his. “I’m gonna go check on Lila-bug, then I’ll be back. Is there any pizza left?”

“Plenty. Sam’s got Lila. Katie-cat is sleeping with Fitz on the couch.” Clint frowned at the bandages on Nat’s head. “Oh, I made more coffee.” 

“I’m sure Claire’s found it already.” She stretched and slipped out of the room. 

Clint grunted in response and let his head fall against the sink. “Nat, I think we should talk.” 

Silence answered him. 

“You don’t have to answer, I know you’re listening. I never really shut up. Why didn’t you tell me? We’re a team. You’re family.” He babbled, emotions driving the words out of his mouth. He kept talking, hands fidgeting with his phone and the rug underneath him. 

A hand darted out and gripped his own fiercely. Damp with tears and snot, Nat’s grip increased. 

“Is that your way of telling me to shut up?” He choked out between sobs. “Cause you know that’s not happening.” He squeezed back. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

***

“Avengers in my kitchen.” Laura noted through a mouthful of pizza. “Are you sure you’re okay with her?” 

Sam continued to sway, Lila twitching in sleep with Wilson's arms wrapped tightly around her small body. “Oh yeah, I miss my nieces and nephews like crazy.” 

“Never pegged you for a such a softy.” Bucky goaded. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Barnes.” 

“Well, I hate to interrupt, but Lila and I have a date with a new diaper and a thermometer.” She winked and pulled her daughter towards her chest. “Ladies, shall we continue this debrief in there?” 

Jessica snatched a burp cloth from the pile on the counter and joined Claire and Laura in the family room. 

“You made good time.” Laura settled the pillow under the infant and gestured for Claire and Jess to get comfortable. 

“Where is she?” Jess asked. 

“Bathroom with Clint.” 

“What has she told you?” Jess extracted a notebook from her pants and took the pen Claire offered. 

“That she killed them.”

“The assailants?” Claire clarified. “How many?” Jessica growled. 

“I don’t know. There are bruises all along her hips, I’m still not sure about the extent of her injuries.” Laura recounted the events of the past few hours, none of it feeling real. Lila gurgled, warm vomit trailing down her chubby neck. 

Claire handed her the towel and cooed at Lila and Laura fastened the last tab on the diaper.

“Go get changed.” Jess directed, reaching out for the baby. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yup.” She popped the ‘p’ and wriggled out of her signature leather jacket. 

Laura thanked the PI profusely and transferred the satiated girl to Jess’s waiting arms. “I’ll change and check in on Nat. You can put her down in the bassinet if she falls asleep.” 

“I wish Murdock could see this.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Jones threatened in a whisper. 

The sound of a camera clicked and she swore under her breath. 

“Luke is going to love this.” Claire sighed, her fingers tapping out texts to the rest of the Defenders. 

***

The fourth tube filled with blood. “That’s it Nat, last one.” She teased the rubber band loose from the band around her arm. She slid the needle out and capped it before handing it to Jess. 

“Can I ask you some questions? I’ll try to keep them to yes and no. Can you nod if that’s okay?” 

Natasha’s head jerked up and down. Her hands knotted the fabric of Clint’s sweatshirt. He held her tighter, as if his hug could protect her from this. 

“Were the assaults within the last 48 hours?”

A shrug answered her. 

“That’s okay.” She intoned a calm energy. “More than 1 assailant?” 

A quick nod. 

“More than 3?” 

Another nod. 

“Almost done.” She soothed. “Did they use condoms?” 

Hesitation before a shake of the head. 

“Is there blood or discharge when you use the bathroom?”  
A nod. 

“That’s it for now Nat.” She pulled off her gloves. “Thank you. Stark says he’ll put a rush on these labs. Rogers said something about a drone coming to pick them up.” 

“Okay.” Clint nodded tiredly. “Thanks Temple.” 

Natasha tugged the sweatshirt hood over her head and attempted to burrow deeper into Barton’s lap. 

“Go get some rest.” Jess directed. “Lila’s down for now. Bishop convinced Laura to get some sleep. I think they’re in your guest room.” 

“You’re sure?” Clint stifled a yawn. “Should I move her to the bedroom?” 

At those words, Natasha scrambled away from Clint. Terror propelled her to her feet, she swayed dangerously. 

“Whoa Nat.” Jess carefully addressed the woman. “Looks like you’re a little unsteady. How about taking a seat?” 

Clint moved towards the door. Natasha whimpered, her eyes wildly scanning the small room. 

“Hey.” Jess shoved Clint towards the open door. “We’ll be okay. I’ll holler if I need anything.”

Barton considered arguing, but paused. He had read the file S.H.I.E.L.D. had compiled on Killgrave, he knew Jess’s history. Without a word, Clint nodded and padded down the hall towards his wife and youngest daughter.


	3. And Don't Care Whether I Live or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky struggles to separate his past from the present as he works with Rogers and Barton to identify the men who have been murdered by Yelena and Natalia. Natasha is dealing with withdrawal and the repercussions of her time in captivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> *flashbacks of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse  
> *references to being drugged  
> *withdrawal symptoms

***

“I’m not the snuggling type.” 

Natasha watched her from the corner of the bathroom. 

Jess settled herself against the sink. “What’re you hiding in there?” She pointed at the hooded sweatshirt pocket. 

She glowered at Jones, sizing up the potential threat. After a beat, the familiarity of her friend’s sarcasm led to Natasha recognizing Jones. 

“I’m not a narc. Come on.” She rolled her eyes. 

Natasha clumsily withdrew a blade, a faint smirk on her lips. She pointed at Jess’s phone. With it in hand, she typed out ‘Barton’s boot’. 

“Hmm.” Jessica considered her own beat up boots. “I doubt I could fit something that pointy in there without hurting myself.” 

Natasha cocked her head. 

“Clever.” Jessica tucked loose hair behind her ear. “Are you up for something to drink?” 

She shook her head gingerly and flicked her gaze to the toilet. 

“Nauseous?” 

Natasha swallowed, color draining from her face. Her ribs screamed and her face betrayed the dread she felt at getting sick. 

“Gotcha.” Jessica drummed her fingers on the rim of the bowl. “Come here, this is gonna suck.” 

Nat nodded, dragging herself towards Jones. “Laura did this?” Jessica touched her hair, pulling it out of the path of impending sick. “I could never braid for shit.” 

Natasha gagged, a low moan escaping as she hugged her aching ribs. 

“Let it out Romanov.” Jess snagged a handful of toilet paper. “Almost done.” 

***

“Fresh off the press.” Wilson called, laying out the printed papers on the kitchen table. “Tony says he’ll reimburse you for ink.” 

Clint’s hands shook. “Okay. Who did Stark send us?” Gulping from his mug, he skimmed the death certificates. 

“You doing alright?” Steve asked, pen tucked behind his ear. 

“Never better.” He murmured, papers vibrating as he perused the documents. “Just peachy.” 

Sam snatched the mug. “You’re cut off.” 

“Aw no.” He whined, frowning dramatically. 

Oblivious to the caffeine related drama, Bucky stood at the table carefully studying each face. 

“Tony sent us the Interpol reports of the executions.” Rogers tapped the files in his lap. “These.” He gestured to the photos lined up. “Are potential targets.” 

“Do you recognize any one?” 

The anticipatory silence rooted them all to their respective seats. 

Bucky shrugged. “I’m not sure.” The kitchen deflated, and Clint smacked his head against the table in frustration. 

Steve scratched at his beard. “I think this might look different if we all get some shut-eye.” 

“It is morning, man.” Sam laughed, the lack of sleep impairing his social skills. 

“If it’s morning, then pizza is appropriate for breakfast.” Clint reached for a cold slice. 

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. “Need ice.” Jess interrupted, brushing past the pow wow in the kitchen. She extracted a handful of lunch-box sized packs and slammed the freezer door closed. “We could use a hand up there.” 

***

Cool hands touched her face, something frigid pressed against the back of her neck. Madame.

You must be perfect Natalia. Perfection. Snow cut at her limbs, no clothes to protect her from the elements. 

Her toes were beyond feeling pain, the satin covered blood frozen to the cobblestones. A marble statue did not feel. She held the arabesque, snow piling on her body. 

“Damn, she’s burning up.” Pressure against her ear. An instrument beeped. She flinched away until hands pinned her down.

“Natasha, can you open your eyes for me?” 

Warmth, unbearable heat and weight stifled her. She wriggled under the heft of a body. Hazy shadows swarmed her vision, confusing reality. 

You will obey. Look at me! Her jaw pried open, gagging. There was no air, no ability to breath. Her abdomen contracted, ribs screaming in protest. Bile flooded her mouth and traveled down her chin.

Hands rolled her. “On her side.” Fear in their voices? Why do they care? Handlers do not care. They punish. 

“You’re okay honey.” Someone soothed. A trick?

English? Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Wet, why was she wet? Rain? No, a room. A cell? No. Think Natalia. Think. Rise Natalia. 

“Is she signing?” 

Sestra. Yelena. Behave. 

“Where’s Barton?”

Help. Yasha. 

Please make it stop. 

I’ll be good. 

Don’t touch her. Yelena, run. Be safe. 

***

Her hands tore at her neck, head smacking against the tile. She ripped at the skin on her throat, working to release an invisible restraint. 

“She’s hallucinating.” Claire snapped on a pair of gloves. “Her fever is dangerously high.” 

Jess struggled to keep Natasha from launching herself at the bathroom door. “And how exactly do we fix that?” 

Clint narrowly evaded a head-butt and pulled Natasha’s un-injured arm across her torso, gently restraining her. 

“Barnes.” Barton demanded. He wedged a sweatshirt between Natasha’s spine and the bathtub. He did not have time to explain his line of thought, but hoped that he request was honored.

The ex-Asset materialized in the small room, an intimidating figure who stood out in the kitschy space. “Check between her toes for puncture wounds.” Bucky answered, his attention fading. “He favors that method.”

“Who?” Clint began, his questioning interrupted as Nat attempted to incapacitate him. His expression clouded and he connected the pieces of the puzzle that Barnes uncovered. “Of course, they drugged her, this is withdrawal. It’s Barcelona all over again.” He murmured. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this, what the fuck did they dose her with?” Jones grunted as Natasha landed an elbow in her abdomen. “Malcolm would be impressed.” 

Claire removed one of her socks. “Yup. Barnes is right. She’s had multiple injections of something. Can you see anything on her arms?” 

Bucky found reality and memory blurring as watched his found family restrain a woman he knew as well as he knew Steve. His chest tightened with anxiety. He wasn’t dead, the fucker was still alive. No wonder Natalia had gone back. 

Show them Soldat. 

Ready to Comply. 

“Let her go.” He pleaded. “You’re making it worse.” The woman before him changed shape, morphing into a child. 

Suddenly he was freezing. Forced to watch the class spar, he handed the sassy redhead her first lethal weapon. He created this weapon. Natalia. 

“Worse?” Barton asked, panting slightly as Nat struggled between them. 

Barnes clenched his thighs, savoring the bruises forming under his prosthetic’s iron grip. “Yeah. She doesn’t know where she is, she thinks you are a handler.” His hands clenched into fists. “Let her go.” He repeated, flashes of the Asset’s years with Natalia mingling with the present. 

“We’re supposed to let her hurt herself?” 

Bucky lowered himself to the floor. “Course not. Please, let me try.” 

“I can’t get any meds in her like this.” Claire assented. “I say we let him.” 

Jessica locked eyes with Cint. “Ready?” At the count of three, they released Natasha. 

The world seemed to slow. Jones supported an emotionally depleted Hawkeye, guiding him from the bathroom. Claire hovered, a dose of liquid Tylenol in her hands. 

***  
The better part of an hour passed. The child's dose of medication finally absorbed into her bloodstream and the woman had dozed off. Temple quietly paced in the soft light of the Barton’s bedroom as she conversed with Stark's private lab.

Natasha startled awake. Her chest heaved, panic fueling her efforts. “Soldat?” She rasped. 

“Da.” He answered, squatting an arms’ length away from her. He was now intimately familiar with their pattern. Doze off, sleep fitfully for a couple of minutes, startle awake, panic, repeat ad nauseam. 

Her chin trembled and she wiped angrily at her eyes. She screamed, drawing her shoulders towards her torso protectively. Natasha fought to protect herself from invisible threats. 

Bucky noted how she seemed to fade in an out of the present. One moment she choked back tears, her eyes wide in utter terror. The next she scanned the room assessing threats. 

The scream caused Claire to run into the room. The moment Natalia recognized another body within the space, Bucky threw himself in front of the nurse. 

In a flash Natasha had a knife in hand. 

“Stand down.” Bucky ordered, his voice harsh and foreign to his ears. Guilt threatened to drown him as he pulled rank on one his former student. 

She froze, the stashed knife clinking against the tile. Her body dropped to the floor, collapsing like a rag doll. She struggled to get both arms behind her head in a submissive posture. 

“Natalia. Hey doll.” With practiced care, he turned her to her side. Her eyes remained glassy, fever still flushing her face. 

“Yasha.” She murmured.

“Da.” He took her hand. “It’s me.” 

Recognition registered briefly in her face. “Yasha. Yelena?” Confusion furrowed her brow. She closed her mouth and began signing.

“Barton, I need you.” Barnes held her firmly, desperate to know what she was communicating. 

The Archer rose from his makeshift nest in the bathtub. “She says Yelena is alive. A weapon again?” Clint paused, interpreting as her fingers formed letters and signs. “I think she’s blending Russian Sign Language with ASL.” 

Bucky struggled to recall the languages he’d been programmed with over the last six decades of ‘service’. “I’ve never been a polyglot like her.” Bucky sighed. 

“She needs to detox.” Clint reached for her face with a damp towel. “Whatever they used is fucking with her memory.” 

On cue, Natasha babbled in a foreign language neither man immediately recognized. She gagged, bringing up nothing except bile. 

“It’s gonna be a long night.” Barnes wiped at acidic saliva with his prosthetic. 

Barton tossed him a wad of tissue. “More coffee?” He asked hopefully. 

“Just don’t tell Rogers.” Bucky dabbed at Natasha’s neck with a damp washcloth. 

Clint offered him a pinky. “Only if you promise not to tell Laura.” 

“You’re on.” Bucky eased Natasha away from the toilet, before flushing the contents. 

***

The tantalizing smell of French toast and eggs brought Laura back to reality. “I must be dreaming.” Tossing the covers aside, she stood. 

Clint groaned, curling himself into the warm space on the mattress his wife had abandoned. “Nooooo.” 

Laura poked him and began signing. “When did you come to bed?” 

“I don’t know.” He squinted. “What time is it?” 

“Eight. I’ll get the monsters, you rest.” She ruffled his hair lovingly. “How’s our girl?” 

Her husband exaggerated the sign for stubborn. “Stubborn as usual, she’s refusing to sleep. Took us two hours to get her to agree to Tylenol. Barnes and Jones are with her now.” 

“I’ll start the coffee.” Laura wrapped herself in a soft ratty robe. “Good morning love-bug.” She yawned, extracting Lila from her crib. 

“Should we get your brother and sisters up?” She sang while quietly slipping out of the guest room. Clint’s snores already starting up again as she made her way down the hallway. 

Fourteen minutes later, the Barton brood thundered into the kitchen. “That’s a record.” Laura beamed. "Guests in the house serve as motivation. Could you guys come around and help us get to school on time?" 

Sam held the spatula in surrender. “Morning?” He questioned as he pulled earbuds from his ears. “Kate and I thought breakfast would be nice.” 

“That’s always appreciated.” Laura carefully stood the babbling toddler in the playpen. 

“Coffee will be done in a minute.” Kate announced, signing to Skye. 

Jemma tugged her brother to the table. “Good morning.” She offered quietly, keeping her gaze on the table. 

Fitz hummed, stimming in the chair. 

“Morning buddy.” Sam greeted. “Who wants eggs?” 

“Oh yes. What do we say to Uncle Sam and Aunt Kate?” Laura prompted, a fresh mug of liquid caffeine in her hands. 

“Thank you!” The Barton kids, save for a non-sensical string of words from Lila, signed at the guest chefs. 

***

Natasha sat, propped against the bathtub quietly talking to Barnes. He listened intently, occasionally responding to her words. The conversation continued in Russian and Jones pinched the bridge of her nose. “I need a translator.” She muttered, flipping through the notes she’d made on her phone. She had passed the last two hours trying to organize Barton’s haphazard notes into a tangible lead. The man clearly relied on typing, his handwriting was abysmal. 

“You okay Jones?” Bucky summarized the conversation quickly in English before returning the phone to Jess. 

“Could do with a drink, but other than that…” She trailed off. 

“The worst seems to be over.” Bucky offered her a tight-lipped smile. “Would you make us some tea?”

“Does she have a favorite?” 

“Oolong with a dash of honey, Laura will know where it is.” 

Jones cracked her neck, trying to alleviate the tension from helping Natasha lean over the toilet bowel all night. “I don’t know what booze goes with tea, I’m an Irish coffee girl myself. Can I get you something?” 

He interpreted Jones’ actions and gestured to the door. Natasha nodded submissively. “Da, Yasha.” 

“We’ll meet you downstairs.” Bucky lifted Natasha with ease and set her on the counter. “How about rinsing out your mouth?” 

“It’s all fun and games, until your mouth tastes like ass.” 

“Eloquently put Jones.”


	4. And I Don't Want the Clouds, They Never Seem to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers attempt to develop a plan going forward with locating the next targets and Yelena. Natasha initiates communication and Clint is caught between two bad choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome to the end of the this work. I already have the next work in this series started, and plan to have the first chapter of that posted early next week. 
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments and kudos on this work, I am surprised that so many people are reading.

***

A slight snore caught Bucky’s attention. “It’s been like that since Naples.” Clint tapped his own nose. “She shattered it while covering the both of us when the op went sideways.” 

“Sounds sort of like a penny-whistle.” Bucky commented, extracting a file from the papers littering the floor between them. “He’s likely to be next target.” 

“You’re sure?” Clint glanced protectively at Nat. “Did he have anything to do with, this?” He waved at his injured partner. 

Barnes cleared his throat. “Let’s talk outside.” The Natalia he knew was more than capable of faking rest in order to attain information. This was not a discussion he wanted her to be privy to. Steve on the other hand, was essential. 

Claire tiptoed around the papers. “I’m assuming these are classified?” Jones snarled as the nurse’s boot stamped a muddy print on the file she was reading. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for vitals, meds and other things you shouldn’t be around for.” 

“Perfect timing Claire.” Barton pushed himself off the floor. “We’ll be in the barn getting some air if anyone asks.” 

Bucky nodded grimly. 

***

“How the hell is this man still alive?” Clint paced the length of the stalls, wearing tracks in the dirt. 

“HYDRA.” Steve answers. “I don’t understand. Why do you think Wakanda is involved?” 

“Because Yelena and Nat wouldn’t be eliminating them this way.” 

“Why this man?” 

“He wasn’t just an instructor and operative. He thrived on punishment, the indoctrination of the Red Room. Creating a new generation means breaking and re-building dozens of kids. It doesn’t matter how many girls die, there’s always one or two that are made of marble.” Madame’s voice invaded his head, humiliating the cohort of students who stood at the barre in the studio. 

“But no back up? She has a team.” Rogers’s voice conveyed a degree of hurt. 

“She doesn’t want us to see this part of her.” Clint explained. “When she defected, her transition was painful. There were moments when I didn’t know if she would make it.” Memories flickered through his head of Nat handcuffing herself to the S.H.I.E.L.D. dorm bed. The times that he found her in the kitchen with a knife at her wrists breathing hard, unable to speak. The terrifying moments when she was unable to eat or drink, the flashbacks of abuse utterly consuming her. 

“I have to go. Yelena won’t yield to any of you.” Her name felt familiar in his mouth, his brain teetering on the edge of recognition or a seizure. He willed himself to stay grounded. 

Clint angrily wound a rope lead. “Like hell you do.” 

“You mean, we do.” Steve corrected. 

“You have a family Barton!” Bucky shouted. Why couldn’t anyone understand that he could not let anyone else get hurt. He wouldn’t allow it. 

“You are part of our family. You’re not going alone.” Clint tossed the rope against the wall of the barn. His impulses had him scanning the structure for places to hide and escape. The anger in Barnes’ voice reminding him of childhood. 

“Buck, I’m not leaving you.” Steve planted his feet in a manner like Captain America. “That’s final.” 

“Well, I can’t stop you punk, as much I want to.” Bucky exhaled, dragging a hand through his greasy hair. “Barton isn’t coming.” He made sure to look at Clint as he repeated himself. 

Jones landed on a nearby bale of hay. “No one was gonna ask me?” She feigned shock and brushed grass from her jeans. “I’m hurt. I hear great things about Eastern Europe this time of year.” 

Barnes glared at her, knowing the argument was lost. “Somebody get Stark on the line, we’re gonna need a shitload of supplies.” 

“I’ll talk to Tony. Let me grab Wilson. We’ll make a list.” Steve wound his fingers with Bucky’s. 

“I need more arrows.”

Rogers roared. “Barton! Don’t make me tell your wife.” 

Bucky tapped rapidly on his phone. “Shuri is sending me files on the missing girls.” 

“What’s the name of the boarding school?” Jones peered over Bucky’s massive shoulder reading the text. “Why so many emojis?”

“She said they’re necessary for understanding.” Barnes smiled. “And I like them.” 

“You are a 16-year-old girl disguised as a surly super soldier.” 

“And you’re an ice queen.” 

“Thanks, it’s the trauma.” She snapped her gum. 

“I actually understood that reference.” Steve piped. 

***

Banner’s face appeared on Claire’s cracked screen. “Afternoon.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. 

“Hey.” She leaned the phone against the arm of the couch. “Do you have any results for us?” 

“Yeah, the rapid STI panel is negative. The HIV one will have to be repeated a couple of weeks. Did you get the antibiotics I sent via drone?” 

Claire nodded. “I haven’t given them to her yet.” Natasha glared at the phone before burrowing deeper into the cushions. “Can you run a tox screen with the samples you have?” 

“Maybe. Can you get me some more blood just in case?” 

“She’s asleep.” Claire lied, wanting to spare the woman of more intrusions. 

Banner caught the underlying meaning of her words. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Let me know what else I can do, Tony says something is in the works. I really don’t want a Code Green anywhere near an op this delicate.” He continued speaking and Natasha levered herself upright. 

“Nat, what’s wrong?” The phone bounced off the couch, landing with a thud on the hardwood. 

***

Steve tossed a clod of dirt out of the freshly dug hole. “Buck, this isn’t a good idea.”

“Coming from you that means something punk.” 

“I’m serious. What would Dr. Spero say?” 

“That I’m an idiot.” 

“Buck.” 

“Fine! She’d say that I’m walking right into my trauma triggers. That I’m on restricted duty because of my TBI.” 

“And?” 

“And, what? Stevie I can’t let them hunt me again. Look at what happened to Nat.” 

“Do you want to get yourself killed? Your brain- “ 

“My brain is a disaster! These episodes are getting worse. Every damn night.” He hyperventilated, his vision dotted with black. 

“Buck, slow down.” 

He was dimly aware of his knees grinding into the wet earth. His hearing was wrong, Steve’s voice distant. “I can’t. I won’t. I can’t let them. Please don’t let them.” 

“I know. I know.” Steve soothed, gathering as much of his partner in his arms as possible. “What do you need?” 

“To end it.” Bucky slurred, consciousness leaving him as the seizure took hold. 

***

Laura stepped out of the tub, toes wrinkled. She had to admit, seeing her feet and being able to touch them was a luxury she’d missed while she was pregnant with Lila. 

Rubbing her hair dry, she squeaked at the sight of her husband perching on the tank of the toilet. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Needed some privacy.” He shrugged sheepishly. 

She squinted, noting with some relief that the lid was down. “There are more comfortable places to sit in solitude. Or are you sulking?” 

“We’ve got to talk Laur.” 

She hung the towel over the edge of the tub, and slipped into her robe. “I figured.” 

“You’ve always been too smart for me.” 

“Bullshit.” Laura pulled him towards their bed. “What’s going on?” 

Clint stretched him arms above his head, an absurd number of vertebrae popping along his spine. 

“Honey.” Laura chided, pushing her husband onto his stomach. She straddled his lower back and began working through the knots of muscles. 

“Oh god.” He groaned. “How long’s it been since you did this?” 

“At least ten months.” She laughed. She worked in silence until Clint propped himself up on an elbow. 

“Laur.” He began. 

“Don’t.” She flattened herself against the unmade bed beside him. 

“I have to.” 

“You don’t. Nat’s not going. Stay with us.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” Her voice wobbled. 

Clint held his wife against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. 

“They need me.” He murmured into her damp hair. “I need to finish this, for Nat. For us.” 

Her fingers grabbed his shoulder hard enough to leave marks. “She needs you here. So do I.” 

He couldn’t give her the answer she wanted, as much as he wanted to. 

Clint felt Laura’s tears soak his flannel. His mind whirred with worst case scenarios until an uneasy slumber claimed the couple. 

***

“Romanov, you with me?” 

Jess unfurled her legs, disturbing the odd-looking dog from the nest of blankets at Natasha’s thrashing feet. 

Holding her breath, she slowly pulled herself into a semi-seated position. “Da.” Noting Jones’ smirk, she amended her language choice. “Yes.” 

“Good, I got something to show you.”

Lucky launched himself at Natasha, ecstatic she was finally awake, and presumably able to play. “My turn, mutt.” Jess shooed him off the couch. She pointed at the vacancy left by the warm-blooded dog. 

Nat nodded, hugging her knees to her torso, careful not to aggravate her bruised ribs. 

“Murdock, you there?” 

“Not so loud Jones.” 

“Late night?” Jones teased. “I would’ve thought you’d be at church this morning.” 

“Something like that.” Matt chuckled. 

“How’s the package I dropped off?” 

“You make it sound like a drug deal.” He complained. 

“Where is she?” Jones demanded. 

“Give me a sec, I left it her in the bathroom.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Relax. Foggy made her a bed or something. He was really happy, too excited if you ask me. Everything smells weird.” 

“Turn the camera on, I’ve got her new owner here.” 

Matt sighed and suddenly his face illuminated the screen. “Can you see her?” 

To Nat’s surprise, a laugh bubbled in her throat. 

Jones groaned. “Get it together Murdock. All we’re seeing is your giant nose and boogers.” 

“Well, accessibility isn’t universal.” He snapped, frustration in his steps. 

After some shuffling and distant conversations, Foggy appeared, the last of a yawn fading from his face. “Fuck Matty, you couldn’t have told me who was calling? I should at least have a shirt on.” 

Jones rolled her eyes. “Nelson, just show us the damn cat.” 

“He couldn’t figure out how to flip the camera?” Foggy mused, Matt’s body flopping back on his bed. 

“Nope.” 

“Here’s the little lady.” The camera zoomed in on a tiny cat, white and dotted with black patches. “Meet your new roommate at Stark’s swanky Tower.” 

A tentative smile broke over Natasha’s chapped lips. 

***

“You don’t want to see her?” 

“Can’t.” Bucky answered gruffly, disassembling the gun and cleaning the parts for the eighth time in the last hour. 

“Can’t or won’t?” Clint repeated the very words his wife had used hours earlier. 

“Shut up.” Bucky avoided Clint’s gaze, his resolve already breaking. 

“Don’t punch me.” Clint pleaded after a beat. He retreated to the stairs, creaks audible as someone slowly descended. 

His arm supported her as she limped off the last step. She swatted weakly at her partner and scolded him. 

Barnes answered in Russian, earning a look from Natasha. 

“Play nice.” Barton pointed at both ex-assassins, backing away from the duo with arms raised in mock surrender. 

Nat leaned against the island in the kitchen. “You remember.” 

Bucky nodded, re-assembling the gun without looking.  
“Where?” 

He tossed her the binder, covered in cartoon unicorns. She quirked an eyebrow. “We worked with whatever Laura deemed junk.” 

Natasha scanned the profiles. “If you can, save her.” She switched back to Russian, speaking in a whisper. 

“I will.” He holstered the weapon, and crossed the space between them. She extracted a knife from her sweats. 

Barnes offered her a lopsided grin. “How?” 

“Ah. You already know the answer to that. I thought maybe, if you find her, she will recognize this.” She tapped the weapon against his prosthetic. 

“How could she forget?” He mused. 

With effort, Natasha lifted her shirt. A jagged scar to the right of her bellybutton gleamed in the soft lighting. “I couldn’t.” 

He pocketed the knife, strapping it along the inseam of his tactile pants. 

“Come back to me.” Natasha whispered. 

“Of course, doll.” 

***

The jet disappeared into the night, Stark tech cloaking it entirely. 

“Tea?” Laura rubbed her hands together in the chilly air. She pulled the afghan over Natasha’s shoulders.

“Coffee?” Clint countered, trying his best to sway his wife. 

“No.” Natasha turned towards the porch. “You’ve had enough caffeine for the next week.” 

“Excuse me?” He feigned outrage, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Now’s the perfect opportunity to bribe the two most important women in your life.” 

Clint smiled. “Is that right?”

“What do you think Nat, feel like a snack? We’ve got a date with some trashy reality TV.” Natasha paled, her symptoms exacerbated by the short walk from the house to the yard. Laura’s earlier conversation with Claire echoed in her head. She needed to make sure Natasha ate and drank in the next couple of hours, or she would need an IV. Clint had the tools in their plentiful med pack, but that was a last resort. 

Clint pretended to debate her offer. “Diaper duty?”

“Diaper duty.” Laura confirmed, winking at her husband.

“I did promise didn’t I.” He mused, supporting Nat’s weight as she struggled up the steps. 

“Uh-huh. Don't forget to change Lila before laying her down for the night.” 

“Wonderful.” He failed at sounding perturbed, clearly happy to be with his family. 

***

The program on the TV provided nice background noise as Natasha sipped at Barton’s cocktail. 

“What’s in this?”

“Pedialyte, cranberry juice, seltzer and crushed ice.” 

“Hmmm.” She spooned a chunk of ice into her mouth. 

Laura clinked her glass with her own glass of wine. “That’s my husband. He got creative last year when the stomach bug ravaged our house and Skye refused to drink anything after hours of throwing up.” 

“Necessity is the mother of invention.” Natasha agreed, collapsing against the pillows. 

“Take it easy Nat.” Clint lifted the glass out of her hands. “I’ll have another one ready when you wake up.” 

Laura chuckled at her husband and tugged a blanket over her friend’s body. “We’ve got your back love.” She squeezed her uninjured foot. “You’re safe.” 

Her eyes closed and her mind drifted. Exhaustion finally claimed her and Natasha found herself in a blessedly dreamless sleep.


End file.
